Boards, Again
by Wicked.Intentions
Summary: Sequel to "Boards." Nazi Zombies! Richtofen/Nikolai. A window's in need of repairing again, and with Tank still mentally and emotionally suffering from his last encounter with Richtofen, Nikolai is sent to collect the boards.


**Disclaimer:** _Call of Duty: World at War_, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this video game does not belong to me. The plot itself belongs to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.

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**Title:** _Boards, Again._

**Complete Story Summary: **A window's in need of repairing again, and with Tank still mentally and emotionally suffering from his last encounter with Richtofen, Nikolai is sent to collect the boards.

**Story Pairing(s):** Edward Richtofen/Nikolai Belinski.

**Story Rating:** T.

**Chapter Content:** Coarse language and slightly graphic male/male contact.

**Notes:** I was reading over the first "Boards" story when I realized I left a potential sequel mention at the end. Here it is.

I modified my Richtofen a bit. I hope my readers enjoy him.

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"Where have you been?" demanded Nikolai when Tank shakily descended the curved staircase into the Animal Testing Lab, reclaiming his seat on a stack of stained, yellowed German manuals. "Do you have boards yet? That window has been violated more than once since you have been gone. The boards are there no longer."

"Uhm." Tank threaded a hand through his mused blonde hair, giving the curious Russian and Japanese an uneasy stare. "I don't have 'em."

"Why not?" the Japanese questioned quietly, his Type 100 firmly in his grasp.

Tank then noticed that they were both splashed with blood and looking a bit weary. Ignoring the question, he posed his own. "'More than once,' huh? Goddamn. How many zombies have you gone through? I was only gone for about twenty minutes!"

"You should have seen it!" burst from Nikolai's chapped lips. "Zombies… fused together! Such as… such as… having been exposed to…" he fished for the words, shaking his head, a haunted look in his eyes. "It was a most terrible thing to witness. Vicious fuckers also."

Takeo nodded once when Tank turned his incredulous gaze on him.

"Sounds… Fuck, that's just creepy." Tank laughed despite himself.

"The boards?" the Japanese inquired again.

The American's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat while he swallowed his mirth, filling again with dread. He glanced off to the side several times, opening his mouth and closing it a couple seconds later, until he finally crackled out an answer in the form of a lie. "R-Richtofen asked that Nikolai get 'em. He don't trust me."

Nikolai's eyes popped open, and his jaw dropped. "Why the _fuck_ would he trust me any more than you?"

"Hell if I know. Ya better go get 'em though," Tank told him with a serious expression. "I'll stay here with Takeo and defend the fort from your mutated zombies." He pondered that. It seemed a bit redundant. He shook his head lightly.

Nikolai turned his head from Tank to Takeo, receiving only silence. With a sigh, he raised himself from the broken metal box he had been resting on, his stiff joints popping from the effort, and made his way over to the staircase that would take him up to the bridge. He crossed it and entered into the room that Richtofen sometimes chose to store his important papers in. He immediately took a right, hearing the doctor's voice coming from below near where the useless furnace was housed.

He stepped down from the last stair, turning to face Richtofen, who was currently scratching letters into the wall with something dark and giggling to himself, sputtering out German phrases.

"Er—Nazi?" Nikolai interrupted, slightly disturbed.

Richtofen paused, falling quiet. After nearly ten seconds, he spun on his heel to lock eyes with the Russian. A zombie's hand fell from his grasp, rolling away behind the furnace. "Vhat is it? I am terribly busy."

"The American told me that you wanted me to get boards for repairing of window."

Richtofen quirked an eyebrow, one side of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Did he, now?"

"He did. Where are boards? I need to get back and make repairs quickly."

The Nazi surveyed him for a moment, still harboring that small smirk on his face. His eyes trailed up and down the Soviet with slow movements that filled Nikolai with the urge to shudder in disgust—he felt like a mere specimen to those sharp eyes.

Before Nikolai had realized it, the Nazi had taken a couple steps forward and was far closer than he had wanted the insane man to be to him. To remedy this, he took a few steps backwards. He was growing impatient with the lack of response. "Boards?"

The Nazi snapped his eyes from somewhere around Nikolai's right forearm to his tired, baggy eyes. "You all ask for zhese stupid boards. Is zhat all you can say? 'Vhere is zhe boards, vhere is zhe boards?'"

"What the hell?" Nikolai arched his brows at the harsh tone. "That is not all we talk about. It is necessity right now."

"Hmm." Richtofen's brief look of annoyance dropped from his face, replaced by that coy smirk. He lowered his eyelids halfway, peering at the slightly shorter man with dark interest. "You are right. Zhe only zhing I hear from you usually relates to your precious vodka."

Not waiting for a reply from the tense Soviet, Richtofen began taking a few steps closer, causing Nikolai to retaliate with a few steps backward of his own, effectively cornering him.

The Nazi doctor would not admit it, but the little encounter with Tank had left him painfully aroused and wishing he had continued dry humping him on the floor until he had reached his release, but because he had a point to make at the time, his pleasure had to wait.

However, this new prey falling into his grasp was perfect. He didn't have a point to make to the Soviet. The Soviet was already scum to the Nazi and would never be considered trustworthy. Ever. And as much of scum as he was, he was still a warm, living being with sexual capabilities (or so he assumed) of his own. That was good enough for Richtofen.

He wanted to toy with the Russian first though, as it sweetened the whole experience significantly for him in the long run. Foreplay was always his favorite.

The doctor stepped close enough to trap him against the wall but far back enough that only their clothing slightly brushed. This close, he was able to read that nervous expression well. It was delicious.

"Fuck off!" Nikolai growled, hating the close proximity of his sworn enemy more and more with every second they stood in the same spots.

Richtofen leaned forward a bit, his eyes never leaving the Soviet's. He let out a slow breath, watching as Nikolai's tongue darted out to wet his incredibly dry lips, preparing for more speech. To prevent this, the Nazi's hand darted up and his index finger pressed against them, calling for silence.

Smirking, Richtofen's other hand slid up Nikolai's thigh, cupping it and stroking the heavy material that encased the warm flesh.

Nikolai made a noise of anger, his eyes flashing dangerously. He opened his mouth to curse, but Richtofen darted forward and brushed his lips against the chapped ones, causing the Russian to freeze in shock. He rubbed his thin nose against Nikolai's, turning his head to fully press their lips together firmly.

The Soviet was having trouble moving his limbs while the doctor kissed him, turning rough with his movements, his tongue darting out to retrace the slight wetness that had been left by Nikolai's own tongue just a moment ago, tasting bitter, lingering vodka.

The hand that was on Nikolai's thigh began hiking up further, and Richtofen was forced to part lips with the other man's unresponsive ones so he could pant out his need, his abdomen pooling with warmth and blood erecting him.

Nikolai let out a strangled groan at the feel of the Nazi's knee lifting and parting his legs so that his groin could be groped at. As much as he hated the doctor, he couldn't deny that this didn't excite him considerably. His breathing quickened accordingly.

Richtofen picked up on Nikolai's sudden change of attitude with masked sadistic glee. He put his lips to one of his ears, whispering seductively, "Zhe Soviet likes zhis, ja?"

"F-fuck!" Nikolai yelped, when the friendly hand snaked down his trousers to nestle against him. He smacked his head back against the wall, arching his hips. It was interesting behavior for the doctor to spectate on.

Nikolai's arms were still boneless at his sides, and he was drooping against the corner behind him, supported only by his shaking legs and the eager Nazi that was pressed against him, a knee between his thighs.

He hated himself for it, but it felt too damn good to pass up. All he had time for was eating, shitting, sleeping, and killing lately. Where did sex fit into that?

While the doctor was observing his groin closely, his brows knitted together in concentration, Nikolai took the time to better examine the Nazi doctor, noting the considerable bulge in his SS uniform. He loathed the man, but this would be a lot more interesting if he participated.

Nikolai shifted to a more comfortable, relaxed position on the wall and let out a quiet breath in response to Richtofen's slow, lingering touches. He knocked the man's hat off of his head, ignoring the slight protests, and gripped a handful of graying brown hair. The hair was ripped upwards, bringing Richtofen face-to-face with the grinning Soviet.

Richtofen quirked a brow at him, pausing his movements below, waiting for him to act.

Nikolai faltered for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, though he did not allow his grin to leave his lips to make it obvious that the confidence he was showing outwardly was not within him. Now that he was up close and personal to that thin, sharp face, he was finding it difficult to ease his nerves and find the courage to take care of his sexual desires.

Richtofen, being the intelligent doctor he was and having the sharp senses that he did, picked up on this immediately when the Russian's hands began to lightly shake without his permission.

"Poor little Russian," the Nazi whispered. "Perhaps I should take control of zhis. I know vhat we both need…"

Nikolai remained speechless, even when the Nazi plucked the hand that wasn't buried in his hair from his side and brought it up to his mouth. The doctor could see from the distinctive red that adorned the Soviet's hand that it had been splashed with the blood of many in the last slaughter of the undead. He wondered how it tasted.

He stuck his tongue out and, in Nikolai's sights, curled it around his index finger and lapped at the crimson dried fluid. It was bitter, like the Russian's own taste. He was addicted immediately. Within seconds, the entire finger was inside the Nazi's mouth and being erotically sucked on, a wriggling tongue massaging the digit.

Nikolai groaned in response to this new attention, hating the fact that something that wasn't exactly plain sex was turning him on even more. Damn Nazi… His fist tightened within the Nazi's hair, ready to yank the head away should he choose to bite.

Richtofen, locking eyes with the Russian, displaying utter confidence in what he was doing, took another finger into his mouth, showing it the same attention as the first one.

Nikolai desperately whined, sliding his hand down the side of Richtofen's face, shoulder, arm, side, until he reached his hip, tugging it closer to his own, aligning their groins. He thrust himself against Richtofen's equally excited self, letting out a harsh breath.

"From your breathing patterns, heart rate, and flushed skin, I can tell zhat you are very aroused," the doctor told him playfully. "Though it is very obvious from your erection zhat you are."

"Shut up, Nazi," Nikolai muttered without conviction.

Richtofen leaned forward and pressed his thin, cold lips against the Russian's own plump, chapped, warm ones. He kept them there, sliding a hand up his military coat and undergarments to his nipples. He pinched at them passionlessly, humming a made-up tune as he did so.

A growl escaped the Soviet's lips, the vibrations of their vocalizations meeting between their connected lips. He wondered what the Nazi's own frame was like underneath all of that heavy clothing. He seemed to be frail but displayed incredible strength, especially when toting large machine guns around.

He decided to find out and snaked his idle hand upon Richtofen's hip into his coat and underneath layers of clothing, finally reaching surprisingly warm skin. His rough fingers drifted upwards, over ribs that strained against taut skin. Just as he had thought, the man was unhealthily thin.

He backtracked downwards and bluntly penetrated the man's trousers, wrapping snuggly around the engorged flesh within.

He secretly delighted in the gasp that came from the doctor.

"Oh, zhat is a vonderful feeling!" Richtofen exclaimed, his legs going weak despite his earlier taunting of the Soviet's state of arousal. He clung to Nikolai, giggling nervously as the Russian groped around.

Nikolai was amused despite the situation. He rubbed roughly, nearly laughing out loud when the doctor let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Mmm, oh, Russian, you are very skilled vith your hands. Oh, ja…" Richtofen babbled, his eyes falling closed and knees knocking together.

Nikolai was fascinated by the responsiveness of the Nazi and was unable to look away. He had to see what the man looked like during his release. He made a loose fist around him and jerked steadily up and down.

Richtofen's lips parted, and his breathing became significantly heavier and faster. His arms looped around Nikolai's neck, and he sagged against him. "Ahhh, ja! Mmm, Russian, keep going…"

The Russian had no intention of stopping now. He continued, increasing his pace, his groin pooling with warmth just by watching the Nazi get off.

Richtofen's eyes shot open, staring through Nikolai, and his entire body tensed, his hands forming a death-grip on the Russian's collar. He grit his teeth for a moment before crying out loudly, nearly sobbing in German.

Nikolai felt his hand become sticky with warmth, and the Nazi fell against him, panting heavily, his grip becoming looser as the seconds ticked past. The Soviet wrapped an arm around the man's small waist to keep him upright.

The Russian ground his teeth together, painfully hard and suffering from the realization that he was extremely turned on by what he had just done and witnessed.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Richtofen let out a steadying breath and shifted his weight off of Nikolai and onto his own legs. He gave him a cool look, folding his hands stoically over his chest. "You can leave now."

The Russian immediately became angry. "This is bullshit! You have to do something for me now!"

"I do not have to do anyzhing," Richtofen reminded him. He dropped his hands to his sides and looked around for a moment, suddenly remembering. "Oh! I do have somezhing to give you, actually."

Nikolai calmed himself, preparing for something rewarding. He eagerly arched his hips.

Richtofen bent over and retrieved something from near the furnace. He returned to Nikolai, grabbing his hand. He placed the object in the center of his palm, stepping back in satisfaction.

Nikolai stared at what was in his hand. "What—"

"Make your repairs, Russian."

Richtofen had given him a fucking wood _chip_. It made him wonder what exactly they would have to do for an entire _board_. He was sent away with his reward to his baffled and slightly upset comrades without an answer.


End file.
